


The Knife and the Shark

by therune



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therune/pseuds/therune
Summary: dh-kinkmeme fill  - https://dishonored-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/446.html?thread=527038#cmt527038snippets of Daud/Lizzy, can be read as gen, friendship, shippySee individual chapters for more in-depth summaries





	The Knife and the Shark

**Author's Note:**

> Their first meeting - Gen

They first met about ten years ago. He had a job, she had a boat and was refreshingly ruthless. Daud instantly liked Lizzy.  
Her ship, the Undine, was old, but still capable. It didn't look like much (Lizzy had said practically the same thing when they first set foot aboard but the tone implied that it was an insult only she could make and that he would be in serious danger of losing a few extremities if he agreed) but it was dependable and the crew experienced in all matters of less than legal activities. 

His contract lived in a mansion overlooking a side arm of the Wrenhaven. Apparently the mark's sister hadn't agreed with the way their father had split up the inheritance, having had her eye on the art collection that was now in said mansion and would pass to her if her dear brother suffered an accident.  
Daud didn't care about making his kills look like accidents, but she'd paid extra. It wasn't as if he was incapable of subtlety, he normally just didn't bother. 

The Undine was surprisingly quiet for a ship of her size. Combined with the fog wafting over the water's surface, they could approach undetected.  
"Ghastly weather," Lizzy started a conversation. She sat crosslegged on a cabinet, her head nearly level to his.  
He didn't reply, not caring about either the weather or a talk.  
"So you're the strong and silent type after all," she continued.  
Drops of water settled on his clothes and mask.  
"I know you can talk. I heard you, giving instructions to your men before we departed."  
When he still didn't reply, she pulled open a drawer and fished out a brown glass bottle. The label had been ripped off, now merely a suggestion of what it might or might not have contained.  
"I'd offer you some, but I can imagine the answer. Silence." She grinned and took a swig. 

When the engine started to turn off, she hopped from her perch.  
"The ship can't come closer. We can offer you a skiff - for a little extra," she grinned with a mouthful of teeth filed to sharp points.  
"That won't be necessary," he answered and disappeared in an otherwordly whirl of flecks of void.  
He could hear her curse as he reappeared on the metal roof. There were a few rocks - the same preventing the ship from driving closer - he could use for getting across in a dry manner. His mark gleamed with light and he made his way to the shore.  
The mansion was like a dozen he'd seen - ostentatious, tasteless, filled with more money than a man could spend in a lifetime and clearly focused on nothing more than amassing an even greater fortune. He infiltrated it through an open balcony door, and jumped from chandelier to chandelier. The mark was in the library, dozing with liquor bottles lining the floor.  
Daud had several options open to him, but he was pragmatic. He cleared a way, arranging the bottles to lead to another balcony. To someone entering the room it would look like the man had been drinking on the balcony where he had then suffered a terrible but understandable accident, having fallen over the railing. Carefully he moved bottles, glasses and furniture. The mark didn't even stir. He hit the ground outside with a loud crash. The wailing servant who found him never knew that his master had been dead before he'd hit the ground.  
Daud was a professional, first and foremost.  
But he brought a souvenir. 

When he presented the bottle to Lizzy, she grinned and punched his arm playfully.  
"I like you, Knife," she said before offering him a sip.


End file.
